Whole New World
by Luke131
Summary: Four years after the outbreak, an ivory haired girl find herself wandering alone through the desolate and abandoned streets of Beverly Hills. With the city of Los Angeles being a shell of its past self after bombings, the girl stumbles upon an odd, yet a potentially loyal friend.


A warm, umber shaded sky. Peachy sun up in the sky, godly rays glistening brightly down at the cold and dark city, revealing the ruins of Los Angeles. Once mecca of culture, now a shell of its past self, narrow alleys and wide open highways and only soft, warm wind blowing against the cold, cracked asphalt in Beverly Hills.

A lone girl with a dyed white hair, lavender shaded ends, a white hoodie and light blue jeans, her fingers wrapped around a Smith & Wesson revolver, a brown leather messenger hanging down on her left shoulder, nonchalantly walked down the street of once famous area of Beverly Hills. Her eyes a little baggy, her pupils calmly glanced and focused on each house. She stopped. A noise. Crack of a glass, a muffled sound through the walls and the open wooden door. Her finger instinctively pulled the hammer down and she drew in a quick breath in. She walked into the house, her feet quietly thumping against the carpet, soaked in old, crimson red blood. A quick flash of a figure through a small opening. Without hesitation, she took a confident step in and cocked her revolver.

"Don't shoot! I'm not bitten!" - the bearded man flicked his head away from the white haired girl. She could see the man's distinct, umber, bronze Shaded horseshoe mustache, a yellow hard hat, a large hammer in his belt and short brown hair. He seemed to stand about 6'2". Her brows furrowed for a moment as she eyed over his belt. He flicked, got taken off guard as he momentarily raised his hands in the air.

"Are you?" - she raised her chin a bit, her eyes up back again at him, her fingers softening the grip she had on her revolver

"I'm not. I'm just... looking for a place to sleep in." - he explained, slowly lowering his hands as his eyes gaped at her face, her hands. He was shaking, but it was barely noticeable

"Do you have name?" - the girl lowered her revolver and gently pushed the hammer down with the soft pad of her thumb, now holding it down, as her hands hung down

"I'm Jim Freeman."

"Camilla Cherry. Nice to uh... meet you, Jim, I suppose." - she made a quick cackle, awkwardly jolting her shoulders up and down "And you're looking for a place to stay... or scavenging...?"

"I was actually... yeah... looking for other survivors..." - the man, who seemed to have a slightly dirty brown mustache, had a spark of infatuation the moment he saw the white haired girl and her lavender shaded ends. They stood there in an awkward silence. Camilla shifted her eyes on the ground, brushing her fingers against the nape of the neck. She could feel the itch crawling through her skin, as if she didn't need the attention she had at the moment. A total stranger who had a curious look in her eye, made her uncomfortable for a few moments. She didn't know him… yet…

"Well, you uh…" - she jolted her arms up and down, letting out a quick exhale out of her mouth, a shade of awkwardness in her movement "... found me and we didn't kill each other just yet."

"Yeah... You're the actually the first one not to shoot me." - he awkwardly chuckled

"Why's that?" - her eyes shifted up, brows raised and forehead creased. Quite an unusual way to introduce oneself, she thought to herself, however she shrugged and gazed the other way for a couple of seconds

"It's a long story…" - his fingertips brushed the nape of his neck, his head tilted down - "Maybe... I'll tell you the other time."

"Okay uh..." - she wagged her head around the living room, taking a few quiet steps against the carpet, soft thumps followed as she walked - "...I've been hearing of other people around here. Wanna look around?"

"Yeah, I did too. Let's see the garage, maybe we'll find a car." - Jim made a dry chuckle

They both made their way through the living room. It seemed that whoever lived here left in a hurry, like anyone did during the outbreak. A dusty table in the center, an old shattered TV and couple of broken windows. She only gaped at few of those things, as if wondering who used to lived here. She and Jim passed into the garage, the front gate open. It didn't take them long. They stumbled upon no car, but two bicycles; red and blue.

"Well... only those bikes." - the girl let out a rather disappointed sigh as she dipped her head for a few seconds. Jim looked at her, a bit longer than usual, as if distracted. Camilla didn't notice, her azure eyes stared at the red bicycle, lips twisting to the side as she smacked them. Jim got up on the blue bicycle.

"Ready?" - he readjusted himself on the seat, his leg already on one of the pedals

"Yeah…" - she straightened her posture. Keeping the revolver in her right palm, she locked her fingers around her revolver and the bicycle's grip. She raised her leg and nodded, taking a few seconds to adjust the gear. She pushed the pedals down and rode out of the open garage.

They stormed off. A few walkers took their steps towards both of them, their heads wagging back and forth as their teeth snapped up and down on occasion. Both of them were pedaling down fast, down the hill. Camilla grabbed her revolver and held both the grip and the handle of the bicycle as she journeyed down the straight, sunny but quiet street, apart from the lone walkers roaming about. Not far behind her, Jim.

"Nothing like... a good exercise." - the man with mustache remarked, a cackle quietly echoing through the dry air, a few short exhales followed as he seemed to be growing tired.

Camilla slowed down, softly pressing the brakes on the wheel and got off from the bicycle as her blue eyes noticed one silhouette standing on a weakly barricaded gate, some sort of catwalk, she guessed. It was mostly made out of few bits of metal plates and whatnot. Flinching and fearing she may have been seen by the figure, she hastily lead the bicycle into a secluded spot behind walls of another, desolate house. She lowered her head and readied her revolver, just in case. Jim raised a brow at this, before he himself noticed what the girl had seen. Nodding to the cue, he did as the cherry girl did. They both kneeled down and took their time to watch their surroundings. Her brows were constantly furrowed as if she was onto something, before she looked back at Jim.

"Well, one guy on the top of that thing... and only him... Think we should go talk to him?" - she nudged her head to the side, her voice hushed, a whispering tone, barely echoing

"I don't think we have any choice, do we?" - he raised his shoulders, shaking his head left and right

"I guess not." - she rolled her eyes, hoping to have heard something more that could be helpful. Having no other choice, she reluctantly pushed herself to leave the cover and stood up as she took a few seconds to check the streets.

Suddenly the figure disappeared, a quick motion of silhouette dropping down. Camilla froze, a brief shock and suspension. She let out a breath she held for a while, her head snapping left and right, eyes searching for the man. It's as if the man saw her and already taken her off guard.

"Make one move and I'll put a bullet in ya both!" - a loud, confident, distinctive irish accented voice echoed at them as it stood up once again from a different position. She could make out his hair colour and his facial structure, but couldn't see more. Drawing in a sharp breath, the moment she saw and heard the man, she raised her revolver. She knew she would've been dead by now.

"Is that a Colt Python? I'd love to take it off of your dead body!" - the man made a chuckle as he waved his pistol at the girl, cocking the gun up and down, keeping a sly grin on his face. A chuckle followed as he aimed at the girl, his left eye closed, right eye looking through the ironsights.

"Come and get it!" - she furrowed as she yelled out back to him, at least trying to keep up a hardened face as she kept her cool

"Ya better come down before you shoot your own leg Irishman!" - a sudden, strong feminine voice called out, with a distinctive Irish accent. The man immediately lowered his revolver as his face made a grim look, lips forming into a thin line, before looking down at the unseen woman

Camilla raised a brow, chaotically squinting them back and forth. She felt quite confused, her inconsistent hand nudges and head wagging, her pearly hair flopping up and down as she stood in silence with her lips clamped. Slowly lowering her revolver, she wasn't sure what to do, whether to keep it up or not. Instead, she kept standing, waiting for whatever is to happen.

"Wow, seriously? I'm trying to do something here!" - the man pressed his lips together as she yelled back, as if ranting out to her, stomping his leg against the catwalk he was standing on.

"I bet ya small irish dick you wouldn't actually do something smart for once." - a sarcastic chuckle echoed through the short distance. The man sighed and hopped down, opening the small gate for them. A young man with pale skin and a little longer hair than Camilla's newly found friend. The girl lowered her revolver and tucked it back. Giving out a soft, relieved sigh, she and Jim approached the man.

With them approaching, they could suddenly hear a sound of saxophone playing. Camilla blinked as she bit her lip.

"Elizabeth, what the hell are you doing?! You're going to call in a horde of walkers here!" - the man snapped as he walked up to her, yelling in a hushed tone. Jim walked in the last and closed the gate.

"Oh, boo hoo, lil' Lucas won't handle some walkers." - she briefly stopped playing to draw in a little bit of breath, speaking in a slightly high pitched tone. She sighed and put the saxophone down, walking off from their sight

Camilla and Jim looked at each other, their pupils hitting the edge of their eyes. Raising their brows, they looked back at up the two.

"Nice uh... to meet you. Name's Camilla. Hey, I'll uh... I'll get something to eat if you don't mind. I'm starving." - the ivory haired girl made a quick hand wave, her palm massaging her own abdomen, feeling the soft rumble in her stomach, an emptiness. She couldn't help but leave abruptly to find something to quench her thirst and sate herself

"I'm Jim." - the man with horseshoe mustache made a nod, as if he had hid his confusion, giving a nod to Camilla as she walked off. He began conversing with the two.

"I'm Lucas and this lil' gal's name over here is Elizabeth..."

Camilla walked inside as the voices faded away, muffled behind the thick walls. Her eyes wandered over the shelves as she stepped into the kitchen. It was a neatly furnished one, modernistic style. White shelves, sink, all but dirty. Few spider webs could be seen in the corners of the shelves. Her shoulders both flinched, shaking up and down. "Ugh…" - she blinked as she nervously looked around the ceiling and the floor. Letting out a soft, dulcet sigh out of her nose, she looked up on one of the shelves. Opening one, she could find half full cereal box. Jolting her shoulders up and down, she swiftly grabbed a small glass bowl from the cupboard and shook the box, cornflakes dropping into it. She grabbed a spoon and sat down by the table in the living room. Her eyes looked down at her bowl, not particularly interested in anything else other than food. A few chunks and chews of cornflakes later, her eyes drifted away, focused on one spot in the room. Relaxed and at the same time anxious, she drew in a deep breath in, shaking her head as if she was holding in something, her brows furrowing.

"Where are you..." - she mumbled to herself as she turned to look through the window in the kitchen, her eyes locked as if daydreaming of something or someone, airy, yet she could feel how she held out her pain, a quick burst in her heart. Her voice, a spark of loneliness and her longing for someone. The vibrant peachy shaded sun gleamed into her eyes, with her coming back to her senses, dragged away from the world she was in for a while. She continued to swing the spoon and dig into the bowl, sluggishly and lazily, as if she was discouraged.

"And I'm Free..." - she quietly raised her voice, the octave and began musing the tune, a soft, smooth and silvery singing voice faintly echoing through the room "...Free Fallin'..." - she continued, ending with a heavy, sharp and long exhale, head dipped down.

"Hey." - she heard a voice calling out for her behind her. It was Jim. Laying her eyes on his face, she could notice a ghost of a smile on the his face. This time, she knew she wasn't wrong. She could feel it, skin itching anytime the man gave out subtle hints for her to see.

"Hey..." - she buried her eyes back onto the cornflakes in the bowl, sweeping her awkwardness away, trying to hide it, preoccupied with food

"I've been thinking... since we're meeting new people... why not run our own group?" - he suddenly spoke out, something the girl didn't expect to hear. There was something she felt that was wrong, but couldn't place it. She heard his words and closed her eyes, processing what he had said. Opening her eyes, she sighed and looked up on him.

"That's... a little too early to... you know... think about. I mean... Man, we just met, I don't even know if I'll be sticking around for long and… I don't know you..." - she let out a tired, langurous breath out, her eyes rolling up as she turned back on her chair

"I know, but, I thought we'd... Eh, maybe you're right." - he made a dismissive wave of a hand as he wagged his head up at the ceiling

"Look... Sorry, but I'm a little tired. I've been walking for a couple of hours now and I just... I just need some rest, okay?" - she waved her hands up and down, her voice airy and a shade of drowsiness in it. Her eyelids lowered, she stood up and her eyes immediately traveled to look at the couch in the room, paying zero attention to the man.

"I think... I think I could use a rest too if I'm being completely honest." - Jim yawned as he stretched himself out, nodding as he glanced over the ivory haired girl

"Up to you. I'm dipping. See you in a few hours." - Camilla said, widely opening her mouth and covering it as she gave out a yawn. She dropped down onto the couch with a messy blanket on it and two pillows. She lazily readjusted the blanket and dragged it over herself. Palm traveling under the pillow, she buried her face in it and closed her eyes. Her breath began to slow down. Making a slight grin, she felt her eyes resting, relieved as she slowly drifted away into sleep.

[Quick Author's Note: Thanks for reading through this. I appreciate the time you took. Just wanted to say that I decided to shift to TWD and try something here instead. I'm not sure if I'll continue HL2 story I started. I'm saying this, because I'm using the same character and I wanted to clear up any confusion for any new readers. Thanks!]


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